


High, Welcome to Chick Fil A

by polkadotPotter



Series: gabi's newsie fics [2]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Albert and Finch are Stoner Boyfriends, Also I know that not all of the characters in the tags actually speak, Crutchie is a stoner and you KNOW it, Davey doesn't smoke cuz hes a pure child of god, Italian Racetrack Higgins, Jack is the King Stoner, M/M, Marijuana, Race is a HUGE stoner, Race totally sells weed, Racetrack Higgins is Pretty, Soft Spot Conlon, Spot has a weakness for pretty stoner boys, Spot works at Chick Fil A, Stoner Racetrack Higgins, This is just stoner squad, and not the midwest, and the rules are that crutchie is a stoner, but i wanted you to know that they were at least THERE, chick fil a, i am also stoned while writing this, i can't decide if he smokes or not so he'd just gonna be busy, i dont make the rules i enforce them, i wanted to make them go to culvers but they live in new york, its true, like most of them arent mentioned but i imagine them being cannon, mush doesnt smoke but he supports his stoner bby, probably doing some nerd shit, same thing with the ships, specs is just Not There, stoners, stop denying it, they're all high, why is chick fil a not a tag this is homophobic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 14:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19401979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/polkadotPotter/pseuds/polkadotPotter
Summary: Prompt: You came into the fast food restaurant I worked at with your friends and you were all clearly stoned but you were really cute and entertaining and somehow I got your number out of it.





	High, Welcome to Chick Fil A

It was close to 9:00 when the group of boys walked in. Spot was falling asleep at the counter, the Chick Fil A he worked at having been dead all night. With virtually no customers, and most of his coworkers having gone home for the night, it was just Spot, Silver, and Pigeon left working- Spot at register with the other two in the back. The only other people in the restaurant was an elderly couple in the far corner, and Spot wasn't sure if he'd seen them move at all in the past thirty minutes. That might have been cause for concern, but this was a common occurrence, and so it was probably fine. 

The boys were loud, with too-wide smiles and glazed eyes. Spot snorted as they stumbled through the doors. These guys were clearly stoned off their asses, and they were doing an awful job hiding it. They all looked to be around his age, a few of them seeming familiar. One of them, a brown haired guy with a sparkle in his eye, was carrying a smaller boy with blonde hair and an infectious grin on his back. 

Most of the boys departed and noisily made their way to a large booth, but one stayed behind and wandered over to the counter where Spot was standing. He stared at the boy for a moment, and realized with bated breath that he was really... pretty. He was tall and lanky with a dancer's build, with curly blonde hair and bright eyes. He had a sly look to him, but it wasn't menacing by any means. It was exhilarating, like anything could happen at any moment and this kid was ready to embrace it. "Hey," he grinned easily, and Spot melted, pressing his palms into the counter hard. "I'm real sorry about this, er," the boy leaned forward to peer at Spot's nametag, "Spot, but we got a real big order."

Spot smiled back, small and nervous, and waved a hand with a short chuckle. "I get it. I get _real hungry_ too sometimes." He gave a suggestive smirk, and the boy just smiled obliviously at him.

"Haha, yeah," he said distractedly, his attention already focused on the menu above Spot's head. Spot had to bite back a laugh. This guy was attractive _and_ adorable. Damn. "Uh, could I get- hold on, let's see- okay, I want three number fours, two number sevens, a number two and a number five, and then can I have three large fries and a water?"

Spot quickly typed in the orders. "Anything specific for the sodas?"

The boy thought for a moment. "Surprise me," he said, and Spot entertained himself by pressing all the soda buttons at once to see which one the computer would pick. "Call me Race," said the boy, grinning as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet, leaning forward over the counter. "That's my name. Race."

"Yeah?" Spot smiled, and hoped to God he wasn't blushing. 

"Yeah, it is," Race confirmed, without a hint of sarcasm. "So what's up?" He sounded genuinely curious when he asked.

"Your total," Spot told him, and maybe his smile held a bit of sympathy in it, "which is $54.78."

Race's face fell. "Oh, man," he said, his lip jutting out as he began to pout. Sadly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, bringing out his card and reluctantly handing it to Spot.

"What did you do to get stuck with paying?" Spot asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I lost a bet," Race sighed woefully, moving to stare at his shoes. Spot felt his heart ache. Race just looked so _sad_ , like a puppy who'd just been duped into chasing a ball that had never been thrown. 

"What was the bet?" Spot put the card through the scanner. 

"Well there were these two ladybugs, and they were kinda both going in the same direction, and so we were like, 'hey, maybe they're racing', so we bet on them, and about ten five seconds later, the one I bet on up and flew away. So now I'm stuck buying dinner." Race looked so passionately upset about it that Spot couldn't help but snort a laugh. 

"Ladybugs, huh," he said, smiling. He handed Race back his card, and the boy took it with a solemn look on his face, tucking it back into his wallet.

"It feels lighter," he observed sadly.

"Yikes," Spot responded eloquently. "Here's your number."

"Thanks!" Race said, brightening up quickly. "Wanna come to our table with us?"

Spot blinked at him. "I'm working."

Race seemed to pause, before looking at Spot and the counter between them. "Oh shit. Yeah."

Now, Spot definitely did laugh. Loudly. "Damn, you're stoned as hell," he said, grinning.

Race blanched for a moment, nervous, but he seemed to realize that Spot wasn't going to do much but laugh at him. He relaxed. "I really am," he said happily. Then, he turned and went off to his table. Spot watched as Race sat down between the boy with dark hair from earlier and a redhead, both of whom jostled him playfully as he sat down, teasing and poking at him. Race swatted them away, laughing good-naturedly. Spot felt a blush creeping up his neck. 

He quickly turned and made his way to the kitchens, where Silver and Pigeon were dumping several bags of food into the fryers. "What dumbass came in and ordered all this food?" Silver was grumbling, glaring ruefully at the full fryer. 

"A group of really stoned teenager boys," Spot said, and Silver looked at him with a short laugh.

"That explains it," Pigeon said. "We know any of them?"

Spot shrugged. "Maybe."

He didn't know what he did to tip him off, but Silver was next to him in an instant with a knowing smirk on his face. "Spot's got a crush, doesn't he?"

"How?" Spot wailed, throwing his hands up. "How do you do that?"

"I'm magic," Silver told him, in complete deadpan. "Now, tell me everything."

"You're awful," Spot announced. "Check the fryer."

"Fuck you," Silver said, turning to see if the chicken tenders were crispy. They weren't. "You think these are freezer burned?" he asked.

"Hope not," Pigeon said from the corner. She was on her phone, out of sight from the cameras. "So who does Spot think is cute?"

"One of the stoner boys," Silver said, amused. 

Pigeon 'ooh'ed like she was familiar with Spot and his attraction to stoners. "That's so his type," she cooed. 

"I'm actually right here," Spot reminded the two. Silver waved a hand.

"Irrelevant," he quipped, and Spot couldn't help but notice that it was said in the same type of way that someone would say 'then perish'. Which was oddly specific, but incredibly relevant. 

"Whatever," Spot huffed, crossing his arms. "Fries are turning brown." Silver yelped and turned to take them out of the fryer. 

"Which one is it?" Pigeon asked, and since she hadn't burned any food in the last five minutes, Spot actually responded to her. 

"The tall blonde, looks like a dancer."

Pigeon then, in the least subtle way possible, walked up front, looked directly at the table of boys until he saw Race, and then walked back to the kitchen. "Yeah, he's cute."

Spot put his head in his hands. "I'm quitting."

"Fuck no you're not," Silver snapped, thrusting a loaded tray into his hands. "Take this out."

"Whatever," Spot sighed, turning and going out into the seating area. The elderly couple had left, and now it was just Race and his friends. He sent them an awkward smile as he approached. 

"Race! Race, look who it is!" the redhead shrieked as he noticed Spot coming. "It's the cashier!"

Race yelped and wrapped his arms around the redhead, pulling him back against his chest. "Shut the fuck _up_ , Albert!"

"Hey," said another boy, who was pretending to not notice the dab pen placed on his lap. "Be nice to my boyfriend."

"Yeah, Race," Albert said petulantly. "Just 'cuz I can get some, don't get mad if you can't mphfhh!" Race had pressed his hand against Albert's mouth, and the redhead was furrowing his eyebrows as he tried to talk around the hand. It didn't work. 

"Here's some of your food," Spot told them, and the dark haired boy next to Race took it from him. 

"Thanks," he said, smiling happily. "I'm Jack. Race's best friend."

Albert ripped Race's hand away from his mouth. "Fuck you, Kelly, Race's my best friend and you know it."

"He can have more than one best friend!"

"You didn't mean it like that!"

"Maybe I did! You don't know me!"

"Boys!" Race interrupting, his grin malleable and effortless, spreading his arms invitingly. "Boys, I get that you want to fight over this fine piece of ass. However, this ass is interested in someone else."

Briefly, Spot felt a small pang of disappointment at the words. "I'll go get the rest of your food." Spot made his way to the back, sending a quick glance to Pigeon and Silver, who were staring at him expectantly. He shrugged them off, popping back out to give the food to the teens, before returning to his spot behind the counter.

He watched as the boys scarfed down their food and roughhoused each other a bit in the process. Some kid was quoting Shakespeare but changing the dialect into text speak, leaving the rest of the boys a howling mess. There were lots of screeches of "Henry!" and "Tommy Boy!" as two boys began to jokingly chase each other around the table, and at some point some kid named Elmer fell out of his chair into Albert's boyfriend's (Finch's) lap. To which Albert had responded by promptly dumping Elmer onto the floor and taking his place in Finch's lap. Race had laughed loudly at that. Spot had pretended not to notice. Spot thought that maybe Race was making eyes at him from across the room, but maybe that eye contact had been accidental, he told himself.

By the time that the boys were leaving, it was a few minutes until close. They congregated near the door before the group stopped. They seemed to be whispering about something- loudly, but all at once, so Spot couldn't make out anything specific. Race seemed to get pushed lightly a few times, and he whined quite a bit, but eventually he stumbled away from the rest of his friends and shuffled toward the counter.

"Hey, uh, Spot," he said, and his easy smile looked a bit more nervous this time. His eyes were less glazed over, his hair messier, his cheeks rosy. Spot held his breath. "I was wondering if I could order one more thing? I uh, don't think it's on the menu though."

Spot blinked, but then he sighed. "I don't know what I'll be able to do, but shoot. What is it?"

Race gulped, his shaky grin punching Spot through the stomach. "Your number?"

Spot froze as the words left Race's mouth. His number? Oh. Awkwardly, Spot cleared his throat with a tiny smirk. "Lucky for you, we've got some in stock." 

It took Race a moment to work out what Spot was saying, but when it registered, his face lit up. "Oh! Really? Wow! Okay!" He grinned, wide and excited and happy, and Spot's chest tightened. What a fucking _angel_. "Thanks!"

Spot smiled, opening the receipt printer and grabbing a pen, tearing off a bit of paper to scrawl his number onto it. He handed it over to Race with a little flourish of his wrist, mock bowing. "Your order, sir," he said cheekily, and Race looked at him, blushing deep red.

"Eh- thanks," he said. "It cost anything?" Spot might have been kidding himself, but he thought that Race might sound hopeful. 

Spot pretended to think about it for a moment, and then, just then, he decided he was feeling brave. "A kiss on the cheek, I think," he told Race, smiling like he was delivering an inside joke. Maybe he was. "You want me to check?"

Race stopped Spot as he made to pull away from the counter. "No," Race said, looking appropriately nervous, but excited. "I trust you." Spot felt himself go weak in the knees at the words, and soon Race was slowly reaching across the counter, delicately wrapping his fingers around the collar of Spot's shirt as he tugged the shorter boy forward. Spot closed his eyes as he felt Race's lips against his left cheek, warm and soft, emitting a hot spark that made his heart race and his palms sweat. They stayed like that for the briefest moment, before Race pulled back and rocked back on his heels, looking at Spot nervously through his eyelashes. "Uh, keep the change," he said, doing absolutely nothing to hide the deep red that stained his cheeks. Spot distantly registered Race's friend hooting and shouting from their position by the doors.

Spot could feel the stars in his eyes at he looked back at Race, doing everything in his power to keep his hand from drifting up to hold the cheek Race had just kissed. "Thanks," he said, in a dreamy version of his customer service voice. "Have um- have a nice day." Race grinned at him, blindingly bright, walking backwards until he tripped and then righted himself. He walked forwards from then on, but he glanced at Spot over his shoulder for a long moment.

"Atta boy!" hollered the boy who seemed to be the group's leader. 

"Wedding bells," cried Albert, dramatically falling into Race's shoulder with an arm thrown across his face. "I hear them."

Finch shoved his boyfriend with a sharp laugh. "Shut up, stupid."

Albert pouted. "You love me."

"Unfortunately." 

"Hey!"

Spot watched as the boys chaotically filed out of the restaurant. For a moment, after he was left in silence, Spot let himself stare after them, his hand finally drifting to the cheek that Race had kissed. Had that really happened?

"God, you loser," a voice said, and Spot whipped around to find Silver and Pigeon staring at him, looking smug and amused. Silver had been the one who'd spoken. "You're fucking soft."

Spot clenched his jaw, fighting a blush. "Shut up," he grumbled, ears burning. "Let's just start closing."

And maybe, later when Spot was sweeping the kitchen, he got a text from an unknown number saying **"Hey, thanks for getting my special order at the end ;)"**. Maybe Spot had grinned and sent a text back, saying **"Anything for my favorite stoner"**. Maybe.

But nobody else needed to know that.


End file.
